


Might

by PetraTodd



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marylock - Freeform, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Pregnancy sex, Sharing a Bed, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetraTodd/pseuds/PetraTodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary doesn't need Sherlock to be a father to her baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Might

She thought it would be simple. He was the most charmingly self-absorbed creature she’d ever known; there was no room for a child when he was crowded inside his own mind already. She was enchanted with him for brief periods, and nearly in love with his brain, but there were sensible limits. There had to be, for people like them. The baby would be hers, and hers alone and she was selfishly glad of it. The fierceness took hold of Mary from the moment she knew the child existed, beneath the spread of her fingers over her belly, even though she knew logically the baby was no more than a cluster of cells at that moment.

She never predicted the way Sherlock would be fascinated with her changing shape, and the constant shifts in her bodily chemistry. Over the months, he took to invading her flat several nights a week, dozing on her sofa with his head settled in her lap. She said nothing when she found him poring over the results from her amniocentesis and early sonogram, the ones her doctor had insisted on due to her age, and pretended she didn’t hear his long exhalation of breath or feel the slide of his fingertips over her bump that night as she drifted off to sleep. In the gray light of morning, she felt the hot length of his body pressed to hers for too brief a time before he sensed her stirring awake. His arm slid out from under her breasts, and in the daylight they were as cordial as they had been for weeks.

And so it went, for months.

* * *

 

In her sixth month, she caught his quicksilver eyes watching her formerly nimble feet stumble over the threshold, when her expanding hips ruined her balance. Startled, his hands rose to catch her before meeting her steely eyes- and pulled back, clenching his hands into fists. Mary righted herself and nodded toward him with a Cheshire smile.

Her grin and her eyes held his even as she strode to her bedroom.

That night, he slipped beneath the covers with her, nude for the first time since they’d created her child.

“I don’t need you,” she whispered. She brushed a stray curl away from his forehead.

“I know,” he replied, kissing the skin across her throat that flushed so easily now. She shivered, and her nails against his scalp pushed him lower. “You want me,” he murmured before grazing a darkened nipple with his teeth, and following it with his tongue.

“I might,” she agreed, pulling him to her, her mouth rough on his. It was the same as it ever was between them; only a shift in positioning needed to accommodate the new shape of things. Mary was no less demanding than she had been the first night she took him and taught how to flick his tongue and swivel his hips to stir her _just so._

Sherlock was more confident now though, knowing what he wanted and how to ask in return with caresses. Before Mary, the language of touch was foreign to him, the subtleties a daunting task without rewards. He rolled Mary on top of him, and she was almost embarrassed by the loudness of her moaning from the simple press of their bodies, their elementary stroking. The volumes of blood rushing through her with her pregnancy made the lightest touches feel obscenely sensual. By the time he rolled her back to the mattress, and slid between her thighs, she nearly leapt off the bed at the claiming touch of his tongue against her.

She’d felt unparalleled peaks since becoming pregnant but all of them solo. Every rumor she’d heard about that from other women before getting pregnant was true. Now she lay back, thighs splayed, and cursing as she rocked against the curly head she cradled. Her climax tore through her quickly, silver ripples still racing down her spine, and Sherlock’s eyes gleamed up at her.

“Fascinating.”

“If you document my reactions, I’ll kill you. Literally,” Mary gasped, gripping his curls and pressing his mouth to her again. She saw a glimpse of a smile between her thighs, and then his tongue was on her, in her, over her, until she was insensible. By the time his cock slid inside her, his arms carefully bracing his body over her, she had lost count of her climaxes and was strangely clear, watching him ride her to his own peak.

His pale eyes captured hers as he drove himself inside her, hips pumping faster and faster, and Mary rolled her sex against his, shuddering with the force of her heat surrounding him. Sherlock threw back his head, thrust once more, and poured himself into her, his lips dragging over her shoulder. He sighed with satisfaction and groaned into the nape of her neck before kissing her cheek softly.

Mary flexed her feet over his thighs and tapped his back; Sherlock leaped off her without a word, scrambling off the edge of the bed as though he’d been scolded aloud.

“It’s fine, you weren’t pressing on my stomach; I’d have said so. Sit down.”

Sherlock froze.

“Come back. You won’t hurt me.”

Sherlock sat cautiously down by her. Mary grabbed hold of his hand and placed it across the swell of her belly.

“You won’t hurt me,” she repeated.

Sherlock stared at the stomach beneath his fingers and let his fingers test the hardness of it. “Do you want me?” He looked up at her, catching her eyes, and she understood the real question.

Mary smiled, looking down at his hand, and covered it with hers.

“I think I might.” She nodded. “Yes.”


End file.
